Archive of Our Own

The echoes of the instruments continue to drum against Ivan's eardrums by the time their set is over. His tinnitus flares up in loud rings besides that — and the alcohol, and the frenzied cocktail of scents that fill the venue space. He doesn't see well when he performs, but his other senses are heightened as a result; he doesn't come down from it for a while, even long after the concert is over.

Tonight's energy coincides with the full moon beyond the venue walls. It oozes with desperation and loneliness and sexuality. At an Unknown Sorrow concert, no one "goes home" alone. Their agent books venues where there are an abundance of love hotels in walking distance, and it doesn't help that the drugs and the alcohol lowers inhibitions enough that young, know-no-better omega forget to take their blockers at the right moment, and are thus triggered into phantom heats.

It happens at concerts like this where alpha and omega at varying cycles are assembled together. Only the naive would go alone, and the downright stupid would go alone as an omega.

Ivan scents one such pitiful soul in the blinding crowd: pure, unmated, sweet and utterly familiar; so cloying it nearly makes him choke during his solo.

That certain omega's scent continues to make his mouth water like Pavlov's dog whenever he gets a whiff, even more intense after people have started filtering home. He signs autographs and greets fans in his own dismissive way; his agent, Unsha, will later tell him that that's one of his charm points, which Ivan will roll his eyes at. He isn’t trying to sell a 'point,' nor does he think he’s particularly naturally charming, but this is how it's always been since Ivan signed with Unsha.

When he's had enough, he signals the bodyguards. They disperse to empty the venue, drag out the drunkards, and keep them away from Ivan and his band mates. There's an omega passed out on the sofa, the very one Ivan's scented throughout the night, and he instructs the security to leave him there. It wouldn't have been the first time this night that Ivan had given secret orders to security in regards to this particular omega.

Ivan approaches the sofa located on the other end of the venue where the private bar is also aptly placed. It's a VIP lounge area; guests would have needed a special wristband to enter, but this omega managed to slip through the cracks because Ivan allowed and arranged for it. Is he aware that he has not had to pay for a drink, or did he assume it was all going into his tab?

And his omega blockers have entirely left his system, Ivan realizes. Luckily, Ivan had told a bodyguard to ensure no one messes with him, and it seemed to have worked. It meant that he wouldn't go home with anyone as long as security did their job well enough.

The bartenders and staff are still cleaning up. They will continue to for a long while, and the band is welcome to stay until they close. They help with productivity by putting a tune that is the completely different vibe from the last song just 45 minutes prior, a muted alterative rock classic that Ivan knows by heart, but his mind keens on the familiar scent oozing from the heap on the sofa.

He sits on the sofa next to him. Is he just passed out by drinking, or is it way passed his bedtime?

Ivan first inspects the omega's face. He isn't surprised that he's greeted by such pretty features, attributes it to the fact that his pheromones are clouding his judgment. The high of the show still courses in his veins, and it's only Ivan's steel-like self-control that he doesn't act upon what every cell in his body screams at him to do.

But even without his sweet, alluring scent hazing his senses, the young man is objectively pretty. His makeup is nice too, even if his eyeliner is a little more than smudged. He has piercings on one of his eyebrows and even more earrings on both lobes, and the flush of his pink skin only accentuates the look of his eyeliner, light hair, and silver accessories. He's wearing official Unknown Sorrow merch, which means he's a fan. He thinks he sees his phone under his thigh occasionally lighting up when he stirs.

Ivan searches his pockets and finds his ID. His lips quirk.

'Till,' huh? Freshly twenty-one, and it seems he came from out of town to see the show. Now that Ivan's close enough to scent him free of distractions, he realizes why this Till's smell is so familiar: this isn't his first Unknown Sorrow concert; he's been to previous ones where Ivan noticed but never saw. Ivan wasn't able to pin his scent down until tonight, but it makes sense why he was so drawn to his scent now.

Just then, Till stirs awake.

"Hey." Ivan smiles down at Till's face. He's got the young fan's head propped over his lap, his fingers pulling back Till's hair to press the back of his hand on his flushed forehead. "You sick?"

Till makes a sound, a soft moan that sends a nameless feeling into the pit of his stomach. Ivan doesn't move his hand from his temple; it's damp where their skins touch, and where Till's head rests on his lap.

When Till finally opens his eyes, slowly meeting Ivan's, he thinks: now there's a pretty face along with a pair of pretty, frantic eyes. They're green and vibrant; somehow, the smeared make up looks good on him like this. A feral part of his mind, rapidly taking over whatever sense of control Ivan has, wants to make a mess of it more. He's certain he will by sunrise.

He can tell Till recognizes him from his expression alone, but it seems like the alcohol tempers his reaction. "Oh— no," he manages. Ivan keeps his expression even, unsurprised when Till follows it up with: "I'm… um, drunk."

Ivan's fingers rake into Till light hair that seem to reflect all the colorful lights of the venue. "Need water? I'm worried about you."

It's a small lie, of course; he's not that worried. Till will be fine, at least in the alcohol department. The tab revealed that Till didn't drink that much, and he's burning up likely because of the beginnings of a phantom heat, just as he predicted, and it'll inevitably affect Ivan if he chooses to stick around for too long. He's far more exposed to potential phantom cycles, so it doesn’t affect him nearly as quickly. But that's precisely why an unmated omega should never go to a show like this alone.

Till's mouth opens like he realizes how thirsty he's been, his pink tongue darting out to lick his lips. Then his thin arm lifts, trembling slightly, to run his hand through his hair. His fingers press against his scalp, and he makes a pained expression. The feral part of Ivan's mind swells like an ugly, cancerous tumor.

"I- Yeah, water… if you have some," Till says weakly. Ivan props Till up, letting his back rest against the broad expanse of his chest, firm and hot.

"Your scent…" Ivan reaches for a cold bottle of water on the table nearby, uncapping it with ease, then helps Till by tilting the bottle into his open mouth. "It's a miracle that I didn't have to pry other alpha off of you. Did you carry more pills on you?"

He doubts they would kick in on time before Ivan loses control, even if Till had it on his person.

Till is out of it, but his scent remains calm despite finding himself in what should be an alarming situation. Maybe it's because he recognizes Ivan — he's a fan, after all — that he's able to remain placid. He's really cute, shifting against Ivan's chest like a cat waking up from its nap. Till's thin fingers grope at hips pockets for his pills, and his face only shows mild panic when he realizes they aren't there.

Still, there's no anxiety in his scent when he says, "I can't find them—"

Ivan already knew that.

"You're gonna go into heat at this rate," Ivan says, so deceivingly gentle that it should be cruel. "Till, right? Ever been in heat?"

Till is unfocused. His eyes seem to drift as he thinks, too deeply, too long, before remembering he was asked a question. "— Uh, once."

Ivan nods.

Omegas will go into heat at least once when they've presented, typically around puberty. Some will know what their dynamic is even before they presented. When you're an omega, they say it's healthy to have a real first heat before you go on suppressants, but most of the time an omega will have their first heat because they refuse to believe they'd present as an omega, and therefore don't start suppressants early, because no omega wants to endure a heat without a mate, especially when they're underaged.

Gently, Ivan gently eases Till's head the other way, exposing his long neck, cut by a thick black leather choker. While calm, Till's skin still jolts where Ivan's calloused fingers touch, likely an instinctively reaction from an unfamiliar alpha touching him. He warms Till to his touches by letting it linger, stroking and caressing like calming a skittish cat. The patch is still there, right under the choker. He inspects thoroughly for marks from a lover or mate. He's a bit surprise when he finds none. A pretty omega, completely unclaimed?

"You should know better than to come to a show like this alone. Is anyone waiting for you?"

"Um… yeah." Till grimaces, ashamed because Ivan sounds like he's scolding. "My mom."

"She must be worried. You should text her before we leave… or can I, for you?"

"I… I told her I was going with a friend," Till admits sheepishly. It's obvious now that it's a lie, and he's guilty about it. "My phone—"

"It's right here."

Ivan saw it earlier. With a thin smile, Ivan slips a hand beneath his thigh, and Till jolts again. Very deliberately and borderline indulgently, he slides Till's phone out. Ivan's greeted by a lock screen with the band's graphic logo, and he laughs under his breath.

"Cute," he coos gently. "Your passcode, Till?"

"0820," Till offers.

He won't see Ivan's crooked smile as he unlocks the phone with four loud clicks of his input. Ivan leans back against the sofa, his free arm still swung around Till's shoulder to keep his body upright. Till's head is against Ivan's shoulder, thumb stroking along the length of his neck.

And then very casually, he goes through his photos. There are some selfies, but it doesn't seem like Till particularly likes to take pictures of himself. He finds mostly sights and scenery, food, and— oh, a picture of Till in a very sexy lingerie, a completely different aesthetic from the scene boy look he has going on right now. Ivan zooms in on the picture, trying to show it to Till. He wonders if he sent to anyone, or was it something he just took for himself?

"This is a really good look on you. I'm gonna send this picture to my phone, alright? Then you'll have my number."

He'll do just that, and then makes sure to text Till's mom too. He figures the messages to 'Mom' has got to be the right one. Ivan imitates Till's manner of text to let her know he's headed back to his hotel with his 'friend'. That friend must be Ivan now. "Do you need to call your mom too?"

"N-no!" Till reacts strongly for the first time tonight. "It's fine! M'not—a child."

Ivan simply laughs, locking the phone again while also committing his passcode to his memory. 0820. It's easy enough to remember. He hands Till back his phone, who seems dumbstruck for a short moment.

"Your number," Till starts, still out of it and a little timidly, in stark contrast to his pouting earlier. "Can I text it?"

"Of course you can. We're friends now, aren't we?" He doesn't need to look at Till's face to know that he's smiling.

Being friends with Till doesn't seem awful, especially if he can convince Till to send him more of those types of selfies. If he has to fund the lingerie himself, he's ready and willing. He can't even blame Till's alluring scent at this point: yes, his scent makes his jaws tingle, and his gums tight, and his mouth salivate; his snaggletooth aches with the need to bite into flesh, and yes, he achingly wants to bite and mark Till's bare neck. It's right there, oozing Till's pre-heat pheromones. But Till is also infuriatingly attractive besides that. His hand rests on Till's lap.

"Well, how about we go back to my trailer then? It's probably closer than your hotel."

Till tilts his head to meet Ivan's eyes with awe.

"Your trailer? You're gonna let me go to your trailer?" He grimaces again, then shyly meets Ivan's gaze. "Can I?"

"Mhm," comes Ivan's affirming hum as he scoops Till into his arms, close against his chest. "You're about to go into phantom heat. I doubt you want to be alone for that."

With Till in his arms, Ivan has a better view of his face and expression when he follows that up. He wonders if Till can see the lust gleaming in his red, dilated pupils. "...Unless you'd rather be left alone."

Ivan scents panic in Till's pheromones shortly before he starts frantically shaking his head 'no,' and he laughs.

His trailer isn't far, and their combined body heat — with Till's small form in his arms — makes the chilly night tolerable.

They're both burning up by the time they reach his trailer.

Till's breathing has gotten heavier, his skin glistening with a sheer layer of sweat. He smells even sweeter than before, and Ivan's mouth waters too much for how thirsty he's become.

Inside the trailer, he sets Till on the bed at opposite end of the space and turns on power. It whirls alive with the gentle sound of the air filter turning on.

"Still with me, Till?"

Till is stirring on the bed as Ivan shrugs off his jacket and kicks off his shoes. He helps Till out of his platforms, too; they feel almost heavier than Till himself. "Haha, you're really burning up. Did you really plan on going home alone tonight...?"

He isn't really listening. His face burns a brighter red than before, his scent filling Ivan's lungs and making him dizzy with desire; Till's returning the favor by turning to press his face into Ivan's pillow, inhaling deeply. Ivan knows what he's doing, already a temptress without even trying.

"I'm hot," Till states, completely forgetting he was asked a question.

"I've turned on the air conditioner. Give it a minute."

He pulls off Till's ankle-high socks and runs his hand through the bottom of his flushed feet as if brushing away the lint. He rakes his fingers through the arch of his foot, and Till twitches, his leg pulling away slightly from Ivan's grip, but not completely.

"Still hot," Till whines.

Ivan huffs a laugh and then joins him on the bed, his weight slightly dipping the mattress. He's hovering over Till; their eyes meet as Ivan works on slowly unbuckling, unbuttoning, and unzipping his skinny, ripped jeans.

"Lift your hips."

Obediently, Till braces his shoulder on the bed and lifts his hips. He watches Ivan with eyes that are slightly glazed.

When Ivan slides them down his narrow hips and down his thighs, his underwear goes with it. They break eye-contact; it's impossible not to steal a glance at his cock, half-filled, lying there on his pelvis like it's begging to be touched. He peels the jeans off completely and resists the urge to cup his cute balls as Till settles his hips back onto the cushions.

"Now?"

Till's glancing down, staring at his half-naked body like he's surprised he's suddenly lost articles of clothing, but there's no longer panic in his scent, replaced by the cloying arousal that has begun to settle within both of them.

"Still hot," he repeats, and Ivan knows it's the discomfort of the heat. Till's gaze moves from his cock and back to Ivan, then back down again. Absently, he reaches down as if to touch himself, but stops halfway. Instead, Till pushes up the hem of his shirt, exposing his flat stomach and protruding ribs. He's sweating — absolutely drenched at this point; his skin glistens against the dim light of his trailer.

He can scent the slick from between Till's legs, but he refrains from paying attention for the moment. Ivan wants to savor this.

Till's heat is beginning soon, or it has already begun. Ivan's used the exposure; omega that go through phantom heat are typically inexperienced and desperate, clingy and annoying. But Till remains special, makes something inside him stir — his jeans have come off and Till is already attempting to take off his shirt.

He's a scrawny little omega, but he's lean in the right places. Ivan traces the subtle definition of his muscles on his navel, his rough fingers following Till's where he exposes his chest.

Ivan's eyes fix on his nipple rings. He hadn't noticed that when he patted Till down.

"You were gonna touch yourself." Ivan leans in, his head canting as he carefully observes Till's wonderfully pink face, flushed to the tips of his ears. "Why'd you change your mind?"

Till's breath keeps picking up, blooming in pleasant jolts at Ivan's calloused groping. His breath hitches at Ivan's next stroke, and he makes a beautiful noise.

"I…I don't know." For the first time, Till sounds confused, and perhaps a little hesitant. It's like he noticing he should be a bit more embarrassed about this. Ivan didn't know it was possible for human skin to get so red without burning from fire or sun.

He runs his rough, trained fingers over Till's hard nipple, playing with the warm steel there. Works on prying a noise out of him like he's a new instrument to play with, each strum bringing out another sweet sound that Ivan's all too into. Till sings in a way that rivals even trained vocalists. If he could record this session and sample the sound of his moans, he thinks he will have created a masterpiece, except he wouldn't share it with anyone. Till's sounds shouldn't belong to anyone but Ivan's.

— Oh, that's alpha dynamic interacting with the phantom heat. Till's scent is potent and cloying; it clings to his nostrils and throat, making him swallow spit as Till squirms beneath him.

"You're a virgin," Ivan states the obvious.

Till is quiet for a moment, thoroughly embarrassed. And then he admits, "Yeah."

Ivan slides Till's shirt over his head, and the only thing that remains on his flushed, hot body is his many accessories. His cock throbs beneath Till, and he ruts against his backside to hint at his meaning.

"How do you feel about losing it to me?"

Till is fully hard, and his hand finally snakes down over his stomach, touching the seam of his thigh. "To you?"

His voice is breathy; he's in awe by the prospect of it. Typical of a fan, even more-so a fledgling omega. He breathes, his chest rising and falling. "Yeah."

"So cute."

Ivan lays his hand over Till's, guiding him from his thigh to his little cock, leaking and a pretty rose color.

"It's not a real heat, so I won't need to use a condom. You wanna know how it feels to be filled up...?" His hand guides Till's to Ivan's own cock now, still in the confines of his leather, but the shape is evident even though the thick material. "Plugged up with my cum?"

Till's hand pats at him tentatively, and his jaws clench when he swallows. Ivan can't help but laugh a little at how obviously his interest spikes. His cock jumps and leaks more precum as Till shifts, his ass pushing back against Ivan's groin. Frantically, Till nods. "Yeah. Yes. Yes," he repeats, more enthusiastic each time.

There's the desperation that Ivan tends to dislike, but on Till, it looks and sounds good.

Ivan curls his fingers around Till's flushing cock, savoring the way his body vibrates.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, please?" Till sounds unsure, but his words are panted and desperate still.

"Good boy. Have you ever played with toys...?"

One of Ivan's hand grips on Till's hip, keeping him from bucking too much. "I bet I'm bigger, so I need to prep you."

"U-used to—" Ivan hums. There's probably a story there, but Ivan can care less. As long as he's larger, which he no doubt is, it doesn't matter. Fingers are nothing compare to a toy, and a toy is nothing compared to an alpha cock, much less his knot.

His fingers dip under his balls and slides between his cheeks; Till's taint is firm and his slick has begun to pool beneath him. Ivan thinks he won't wash his sheets for a while.

"You're so wet." He strokes his fingers at his hole, teasing around it.

“Yeah.” Till’s chin dips forward, lips parted, and he shifts to feel Ivan’s fingers rubbing against him. His hole twitches and clenches under the warm pads of Ivan’s fingers. "Put it in."

He lays down on his side and hangs his head over Till's shoulder, looking into the side of his face. He darts his tongue out to lick him a falling bead of sweat, at the same time burying two dry fingers inside his virgin, leaking hole. The noise Till makes is like a howl, clenching around Ivan’s fingers as they enter him.

“O-oh.”

His head pushes back against Ivan’s shoulder, seeking comfort. Instead, Till will find Ivan's seeking tongue, sweeping across his salty, glistening skin.

"You have to relax. Be a good boy and relax for me, or you'll tear when I fuck you."

Till is aching. Ivan can tell, but he nods again, eyes squeezed shut.

"I will," Till promises, voice shaky. "I am."

He's trying; his thighs tremble and jump with the effort of keeping still.

"Do you wanna touch yourself?" Ivan's voice is hot against Till's ear. "Your cock jumps every time I pump into you. You're so cute."

"I dunno…" he grinds into him, panting. "I want you to."

"You want me to do all the work for you, hm? Greedy omega."

He doesn't mean to insult Till directly: it's just a matter of fact. But he sort of likes the idea of bullying Till a little, see how he reacts. Even if it's a little mean of him to do that to a fan — but then again, Till seems to be into it.

"Use your words. Beg me to."

His fingers search for that spot inside him while his other hand continues to play with his pierced nipple. Till's body tries to draw Ivan's fingers further in, clenching wet and tight around him, and his chest pushes forward into the fingers playing with his nipple.

"Please, please, please!" Till's eyes are wet. Ivan's fingers push against something inside him that makes him keen. "I'm greedy. I need it—"

Till's scrawny body squirms against him, bucking into his fingers; he had pushed his fingers in dry, but Till's slick easily makes up for it, drooling out of him like every part of him is leaking— nose, eyes, the very tip of his flushing cock. It's amusing to Ivan how fast the heat takes over Till, guided by arousal and Ivan's domineering pheromones.

Till's intense heat, hopefully, won't trigger Ivan's rut. But Till keeps grinding against his fingers, spilling filthy sounds from both the squelch of his ministrations, be it his unfiltered moans and begging voice. In the end, Till is perfect. He buries a third digit inside without much ceremony, fucking him brutally with his meticulous fingers.

"You can cum without me touching your dick, can't you?"

Ivan's certainly trying to force it out of him. Feels the shape of it in the erratic pulsing and his high pitched whines come spilling out of him between moans. His clumsy limbs thrash within Ivan's hold. Ivan rests his chin over Till's shoulder as he begins to arch into the pump of Ivan's fingers.

"Oh," Till gasps, his moaning growing louder as he bucks; harsh and seeking, "Okay, okay, I—"

Till didn't ask for permission, however. Ivan abruptly cuts him off just at the cusp, squeezing his cock tight so that his orgasm is cruelly denied— even his fingers are gone, leaving him empty and clamping on nothing. Till cries harder, trying to arch but Ivan keeps him locked in position from under, and Till thrashes uselessly against his chest.

"I can't- let go, Hyung, I can't—"

"No. Use your words," Ivan answers the plea that fails to escape Till's lips. "No one's taught you manners, I see. You have to ask permission first. Untrained, greedy omega."

He yanks on Till's piercing this time, just teetering on the edge of painful.

"Let's start over: beg me for my fingers, then ask me permission to cum."

Till doesn't put up a fight at all; he's already a mess of tears an drool and spit. Ivan intends to mess him up even more by the time the night is over.

“Please? I- It's empty. It feels… it feels so bad," he babbles. "I need it, need you, please—"

Ivan laughs; this is probably Till’s first time realizing how much he needs something inside of him. He presses his lips against Till's temple, dripping with sweat, and licks a long line from there to his waterline, gathering his equally salty tears.

"Use your words. 'Please,' what? You want me to fuck you with my fingers?" Ivan's fingers circle around Till's hole again, leaking even more than before.

"No, I want… I want you to- with your—"

Till hiccups and twitches, legs thrashing on the bed as Ivan touches Till in a way only meant to make it worse. Till can't cum; he's stuck on the edge, wanting so badly to manage the last push over that crest, unable to do so.

Ivan's just teasing at this point; Till's heat is affecting his thinking and judgment, so it's no surprise he can't speak what he wants, especially when he's too inexperienced to know exactly what it is he's asking for.

So despite it, Ivan pushes three fingers inside him, stroking against that spot again.

"You're so cute, Till. I can't resist you after all. You wanna cum?"

"I wanna cum!" comes his cute little sob. He's lifting his trembling hips as to take Ivan’s fingers deeper, making them push against that spot more.

Ivan's pumping his cock in languid strokes, like he doesn't intend to let him cum that way, but more from his prostate stimulation. Till blooms beautifully against him in tremors and vibrations; Ivan keeps him still with his arms as his fingers bully against that spot.

"Cum for me, Till. And mind your manners when you're done."

Till spills hot ropes of cum on both Ivan's knuckles and onto his belly; the force is strong enough that it reaches even his nipples.

In the wake of it, Till sags against him. Ivan is unable to resist stroking his insides and pumping his cock even after, enjoying the way the overstimulation puts panic and strain on his jolting body, stirring but just barely. And of course, Ivan loves the noises he makes.

"Now, what do you say?"

Ivan keeps touching him; Till whimpers. He’s doing his best to be good, like Ivan's wanted him to be, but it's difficult when he's overstimulated, body instinctively wanting to writhe away from the touch.

"Th-thank you." Till’s voice is trembling and strained, much weaker than it was before.

"You're such a good boy, Till."

Ivan adds another finger inside, harshly pressing against that spot. "But that isn't enough, is it? You want me to knot you."

His fingers draw out a weak arch of Till's back. "Y-yeah."

Ivan maneuvers Till's pliant body around on his lap as Ivan scoots up against the bed. He wants to be looking at Till when as his cock enters him, so he keeps him on his knees on either side of his bed where Ivan's back is leaned against the headboard, straddling Ivan's hips. He makes quick work of his belt and zippers, freeing his cock at last; he then guides the tip against Till's taint where his slick liberally accommodates for their lack of lube. It only takes a few strokes for him to be completely coated in it.

"You want it?"

Till's breath hitches, and he whines in the back of his throat. He's totally gone.

"I want it."

This will go a lot easier if Till would stop shaking, his knees trembling on either sides of him; eventually Ivan's cockhead hooks onto the tight muscle of his hole. "Then take me."

Ivan isn't helping; he merely watches.

"A-ah, ah—" His voice is shaking just as much as his knees; he's unused to this position, and keeping himself steady with his thighs like this. When he starts to get tired, his hips shift, and—

Till hisses like it burns when Ivan's cock pushes at him. It doesn't even go in yet, but Till looks startled. As wet as he is, this is his first time with something so big. His thighs are too weak to keep him upright, but fear and anticipation keeps him from sinking completely on his thick cock.

"Are you scared? You can handle this. I know you can, cutie."

Till's heart is racing. Ivan can feel his chest thumping against him when he shifts too heavily against him.

"I...can handle it." He repeats Ivan's words like it'll make it true, but Till has never done this before. He doesn't know what it will feel like, if it will hurt.

He can tell Till wants him so bad, and his thighs are starting to give. He braces a hand on Ivan's shoulder and tries moving his hips down, the weight of his body helping.

Just then, Ivan takes him by the thighs and bucks up, spearing his cock to the hilt with a satisfied grunt. Till clamps around him tightly, and Ivan coils his arms around his middle, keeping him in place as he vibrates around him. He's in a state of shock, too overwhelmed for words— Till's open mouth gasps out choked noises with wild eyes.

"Fuck, you're tight—" Ivan keeps him plugged up like that, waiting for Till to relax. His cock pulses and throbs inside him, and he swears he can feel more slick gush through the seams. "It really is your first time, huh."

Ivan sounds excited, his voice husky against Till's shoulder. "Since you're a fan, have you imagined doing this with me before?"

Till is tense, more than he'd have expected, his body torn between wanting something inside it and instinctively tensing up. He can't think straight, clinging mindlessly to Ivan as he hiccups a groan.

It's slow, but he adjusts. Ivan's scent helps, and so does the slick, leaking out around the cock that's plugging him up.

"I-it's big. H-hyung, Iv— alpha," he's panting, eyes watery. He doubts Till even heard the question. "Oh."

"How'd you imagine me fucking you?"

"I—"

Till’s face burns. It’s shame, embarrassment, excitement.

“I just— Behind me, and," he fumbles over his words.

To that, Ivan laughs. "Can't even imagine it face to face? What, are you embarrassed?"

Ivan finally pulls out and bucks back into him, gripping by his thighs so he can't squirm away from the thick, invading force of his cock. He fucks him deep and slow while Till remains stunned and impaled.

"Keep your eyes on me. I wanna see you cry for me," he coos lowly, sending vibrations through their connection. Ivan's gaze is bearing into Till's face, glazed out, unable to process the many experiences his body and mind is going through all at once. "You're so pretty, Till."

His breath hitches, crying fully in broken sobs. Like he believes it. Till looks like he can die happy.

"N-no, you’re— you’re so hot."

Ivan cants his head and presses his nose against the crook of Till's neck, inhaling deep and his sharp teeth grazing against his sensitive skin. Ivan wants to bite, but wouldn't that get this young omega too attached? He tends to get bored of the clingy types, but Ivan meant it when he said that Till is cute. And he thinks he means it too when he's begun thinking he's special.

He doesn't elaborate that Till is the cutest he's encountered, and he certainly has the most alluring scent. Ivan releases a satisfied, yet strained, breath.

"Even hotter than your imagination? You're not disappointed?"

Till's body jerks and then stills instinctively at the feeling of teeth; he's clearly not going to fight against it if Ivan means to bite him, lulled by his scent and the feeling of Ivan’s cock filling him up.

"Disappointed? No, never—! Tonight has been… the best night."

Of course he would think so: Till is an omega in heat, drenched in Ivan's pheromones. Filled up. And he's got the promise of a knot. Ivan really is treating his fan too well at this point.

"So much hotter than my imagination…" Till continues, lifting his hips and slamming down, then breaking into another moan.

He lifts his head to meet Till's lustful, hazy eyes, runny with makeup and teary still. It's the kindest Ivan will be tonight, letting the omega adjust and walls acclimate to the obscene stretch. "You want me to fuck you like you dreamed of? On your hands and knees, pounded from behind? Cumming on my knot?"

"Anything." Till twitches, leaks, and clenches around Ivan's cock.

The squeeze is noticeable when Till is too tight around him; every breath and sigh he takes stir their connection.

Ivan grips on his hips and helps to slowly slide him off his cock.

"Face down, ass up."

On shaky legs, Till rolls off of him, stumbling to obey as soon as he can. Faced down against his cushions — his senses must be full of Ivan's scent — and ass up. Ivan spots his knees trembling.

It's better like this, when Ivan can be in control. Till's cute, and he's eager to impress, but at this rate, Ivan can't cum how he wants; Till's movements are too clumsy and inexperienced. And besides that, Ivan wants to bully Till just a bit more.

As Till settles into position, his thighs parting wider for him, Ivan produces a cigarette from his nightstand and lights it. He takes a long drag just as Till settles onto the bed and lets the filter sit between his lips. Ivan joins him, marveling at the hole that leaks for him, pink and swollen from taking Ivan just moments before. He pulls at the skin around it, his red pupils dilating at the way Till twitches and flutters for him.

Smoke exhales through his nose and filling the trailer with a fresh stench of ashes and cigarettes. "You smoke?"

Till is impatient; Ivan can tell with how he stumbles and shakes, not expecting to speak, much less think. His fingers flex around the bedsheets beneath him, peering back with cheeks as red as his ears, shoulders, everything.

"S-smoke?" Till grimaces, his head hanging slightly. "No…"

Ivan lines himself up, taking another drag of his cigarette. When Ivan finally pushes inside, burying himself into the familiar tightness, he groans and leans down; his hand guides Till's face toward him, yanking him by the root of his hair— the angle is awkward, but Ivan's large enough to fully engulf him, his cock fully seated inside as he presses their lips together— hot smoke is blown directly down Till's throat.

"Mmph—! Mnngh," Till groans, and then the smoke predictably burns his lungs, sending him into a coughing fit, heaving, wheezing, moaning— messier than before, and they're only just getting started.

Ivan hisses as the delightful way his wall clench down on him, his insides seizing around him that almost sends him over the edge. "Fuck, haha— That's it—"

Ivan's hand is on Till's collared neck, keeping him in place as his hips snap into him; in and out, in and out, his cock dragging against his walls, still experienced and too tight for him to go at his desired pace.

The coughing fit doesn't help. Ivan laughs, seating himself deep again without moving as he gives Till a moment to recover and catch his breath, stretched beyond his limits.

"Rookie in every way, huh. Almost makes me feel bad... are you overwhelmed?" Ivan kisses him. "You're crying again. So cute."

Ivan's laugh is breathy as he reaches for his phone. The camera is open, ready to record Till's wrecked expression.

"I like it when you call to me. Think you can do it again, cutie, for the camera?"

Ivan pulls his cock out slowly, only to start another brutal series of thrust, intending to make Till scream and cry louder; he knows that Till will do anything Ivan says right now.

"Hyung, hyung! Ah, ah, Alpha—" he sob-moans, back bowing, hips up; his words fucked out of him with every thrust.

"Hah— good, you're such a good little omega. So tight and wet..."

His thrusts are too rough; it jostles and pushes Till further up the bed, the wet slap of their bodies punctuated by each of his loud moans and hiccups. Ivan records it all the while, and then drags another long breath from his cigarette and presses their lips together again. The cigarette is almost out, the ashes flaking from the tip. He puts it out on Till's red, exposed shoulder, burning him and causing his body to jolt violently, his walls tightening.

He's impressed that Till can keep himself up on his knees. Till inhales harsh smoke again, coughing and choking into Ivan’s mouth, against his lips. His body slides further; he’s almost flat against the bed, save for the effort of keeping his ass up like Ivan had told him.

"Hurts— feels good—!!" He can’t decide which is which, but maybe it doesn’t matter. A few more thrusts, and Till cums, his hips giving small, ineffective bucks forward, spilling into the mattress. Ivan can tell the shape of it— his climax, his very first one on alpha cock. "H-hyung!!—"

Till's a slobbering mess by the end of it, cumming so hard that Ivan has to slow his movements with his walls tightening in harsh spasms. But that's about all he offers Till before leaning back, his hand pressing at the smallest part of his waist, pinning him there so his arch is more prominent.

The angle is tighter like this as Till, spent and panting, finally relaxes—

Which is when Ivan begins fucking him in earnest; Till's walls are slick and wetter than ever, making the slide easy even when he clamps and squeezes him. "Keep squeezing me like that, I'll wind up really getting you pregnant. That'd be trouble for you and me— hah, you're so fucking tight. And you look so good, sound so good—"

"Please," comes Till's filthy moan, his body clenching weakly at the mention of pregnancy.

"Begging me to get you pregnant...? Hah," Ivan says, more pleased than he ought to be.

The base of his cock tingles. He could probably knot Till, but he hadn't planned on seeing a fan again. Still, he's really cute, isn't he? Ivan's never taken video of a one night stand before, and he rarely cares enough to take an omega's virginity. Too clingy. Till is making Ivan reconsider.

"Your pheromones are out of control. What you do want? Say it—"

"Get me pregnant!" Till’s voice pitches into something like a wail, desperate to let Ivan know he means it. "I need it! Alpha, give it to me—"

His pheromones are a mess, oozing everywhere all at once, but one thing is clear: he's needy, calling out to Ivan for anything and everything he'll give.

"What would your mother think...? I doubt she'd let you go to concerts by yourself again."

Ivan reaches around, his finger tugging at his nipple ring. "I'm gonna fuck you like it's the last night we'll meet. It's for the best, isn't it?"

But Ivan has a feeling this won't be the last time. His knot is swelling, grinding at his stretched-out entrance. He's already missing being inside of Till even before they're done.

"No," Till sobs, distressed at the idea of not being allowed to see Ivan again. "Ngh, I won't— I won’t tell her, ah, ah! I promise!”

Till is babbling, cheek pressed against the bed in a mess of his own drool. He's rocking back into the knot he knows is there, grinding at him. "I—I like you so much, Hyung—"

"How will you hide your pregnancy? Are you gonna get rid of it...?"

That's what Ivan would suggest; it would hurt his career if word ever got out, but he figured he would pay in cash to help him get an abortion. Maybe it's Till's needy pheromones, triggering the possessiveness that alphas are known for, but Ivan doesn't quite like the idea of his kid getting aborted—

Still, Till is violently shaking his head 'no.' Of course that'd be his response: he's deep into his phantom heat by now.

Ivan grinds his knot, almost full now, at Till's entrance as he babbles, laughing. "You like me? You're a bit of a masochist, aren't you."

He's been a bit mean, but maybe Till likes that. His free hand slaps across his ass, groaning when he tightens weakly around him.

"Fuck. I'm close... Till, arch your ass some more."

Their bodies grind and squelch against each other, skin against slicked-up skin, filled by sounds of his grunts and Till's fucked-out moans. Despite the overstimulation, Till is listening like the good omega he is, shifting his hips in attempt to fit the invading force of his swelled-up knot.

The gold around his neck jingle with every thrust; he pumps his cock inside him in quick succession — one time, two times, three — then grinds his knot against his spent hole. He repeats this motion over and over and over again, even when he thinks his knot is ready to plug him; and he keeps fucking Till while he's sobbing and overstimulated, until he can't understand what he's saying anymore.

Ivan drapes himself over Till's smaller body, his shoulder against Ivan's hot chest, still covered in his turtleneck. He'll take it off in due time, but he quite likes the way Till, naked and vulnerable, feels against him like this. He lays his hand over Till's, like a small comfort despite the lewd way he grinds against him, finally attempting to force his knot inside.

Till is still not ready, too tight for the knot of a long-presented alpha. "You're so fucking tight. I'll really hurt you when I cum..."

Till's hands claw at the sheets as he feels Ivan’s knot pushing and pushing.

"It hurts," he admits, voice wavering, whimpering, and choked; "H-hyung, I want it."

It's hard on Till; he scents some fear and anxiety in his pheromones sharp under the headiness of his heat, almost making even someone as experienced as Ivan dizzy.

His sharp teeth scratch at his sensitive neck; every time, Till clenches. "Fine— remember, you're mine forever. The baby— better not get rid of it."

The next time Till pushes his hips back against his, Ivan meets the force with his own, and his knot finally, finally slips inside. He doesn't stop there— even as Ivan begins to cum with an intense force that leaves Till's entire frame shaking and trembling, he keeps fucking into him, as if ensuring his cum reaches deep into his womb. He groans, clutching his around his omega, pounding him harshly into the mattress as Till's last efforts to hold himself up fails at last.

His noises are muffled by the pillow he's shoved his face into; he would try to crawl away if Ivan's hands weren't pinning his hands in place.

It lasts for much longer than Till bargained for: Ivan's hips snap into him, and it feels impossibly deeper each time with the shove of his knot at his entrance, too close to his sweet-spot. Eventually, Till completely gives out, too spent for words, for moans, pliant and spent and utterly relaxed.

Even then, Till clenches and spasms just like he always does when he cums. Just like that. He's so easy and cute, Ivan fears he may become too addicted.

Ivan's still cumming; it continues to fill and spill and fill some more, first when he reaches deep enough that his tip touches the entrance of his cervix, filling his fertile womb and then he feels it overflow and unable to escape. Ivan's free hand move under Till's body, palming over his womb as that begins to swell. He grinds. "You're taking me so well... my cum is filling your womb. Feel it, Till."

"Yeah." Till agrees dazedly like he's high on drugs; he’d agree with anything Ivan said. "I feel it. Y-your—nngh, your cum. N'… your knot. Hah—" he sighs.

"If I bit you, then everyone would know you belong to me."

His neck is right there. "Do you want to be utterly mine...? I want you, Till. Everything that you can give, I'll take. I'm so greedy, you've made me so greedy—"

He says this as he keeps fucking into him; his knot shoves both slick and cum deeper, keeping them plugged, and Ivan quite likes how Till sounds when he's beyond his limit.

"Bite me." It sounds more like slurred begging than something coherent. "Bite me, bite me, I wanna— wanna be yours."

He's stumbling over his words in his haste to say them, broken up with gasps and groans as Ivan's knot jostles his insides and keeps him stuffed.

It could be just that Till's heat is affecting Ivan, but when he says all these things — Till being his, his mated, and demanding he keeps their baby — Ivan means it. It frightens Ivan a little bit how much he means it.

Till begs to be bitten, and Ivan had planned to tease him more, but he finds himself unable to hold back. Unhinging his jaw, Ivan at last sinks his sharp teeth into Till's neck, clutching onto him and fucking into him even more-so as his body seizes up.

His blood tastes so good. He fucks his spent hole, his knot unrelenting, and spills more cum inside.

Till cries out, and he swears he feels him cum again, clenching, pulsing, shaking, and trembling. His moans are otherwise muffled by the pillow he's buried his face into. Ivan licks over the fresh, bleeding wound, still thrusting and grinding. He laughs, strained and rough.

"You just came again, huh?" Ivan rolls them to their side; this way he can peak over his shoulder and see the way his belly bulges with his shape and cum. "Look at how round you've gotten for me..."

Till's hands press over his own belly, and he makes a noise, more pleased than anything.

"Thanks," Till manages; he sounds like he's going to pass out at any moment. "Thank… thank you, hyung.”

Ivan laughs again, completely mirthful and a little cruel when his knot is still plugging him up.

"You're so cute. I'm gonna keep you," Ivan says huskily in his ear. "Mine."

"Okay." Till leans back against him, far more placid than he'd been before. Despite being out of it, he is clearly happy. "Gotta tell mom."

"Not right now," he urges, keeping him in place by cooling his arms around Till's chest. "You're a mess right now. We'll tell your mother after I'm done breeding you."

He's still grinding into him, eager to hear more of his strangled, overwhelmed noises. "Stay with me this weekend. Need to make extra sure you're pregnant."

Till's moans sound exhausted. "Yeah, gotta m-mmgh, make sure—"

"Are you in school?"

That probably should have been the first thing he asked before he went as far as shoving his knot inside this poor omega.

"College."

It definitely doesn’t matter.

"Really," Ivan laughs. He shouldn't be surprised, but still— it's a little sobering. Isn't he kind of terrible? "What're you studying?"

"Music."

"Private lessons is probably better than paying for college. I could help, so you don't have to go to school during pregnancy."

"Private lessons…?" Till's thinking about it, maybe a little confused by the conversation. "Should I get a job?"

"If you wanna keep working, I wouldn't stop you. I'd even help— especially if you're interested in music. I've got connections, you know?"

Ivan's free hand moves to his chest.

"But you'd take a maternity leave once the baby is born."

"Yeah," Till agrees, like a dreamy sigh. "Of course."

He strokes his fingers over his nipple ring again; Ivan's grown quite fond of them in their short time together, but that also goes for how he feels about Till in general.

"It's gonna be a shame to have you remove these while you're breastfeeding." Mischievously, he tugs at the steel. "Your tits will get full, and you'll have to remove these... I'll be quite sad."

“Ah—" Till’s breath hitches from the tug, and he moans again. “I have to take them out?” He sounds vaguely disappointed.

Then, after a moment, Till quietly asks, “Do you like boobs?”

"Hmm." It's a loaded question. He doesn't much care for them on women, and of course he's experienced enough ruts to have imagined in his rut-driven haze of the impregnated omega to have full breasts to feed their pups, but—

Ivan cups on Till's chest, his nipples tucked between two fingers, and groped them like they're full of milk.

"I think it'd be cute on you. You're cute with everything, especially when you're taking my cock and knot, Till. You should be proud of yourself..." He bites at the shell of Till's ear. "My cute Till."

Till responds in pleasant squirms, small whimpers spilling out from his lips.

"I like you." Till pushes his chest into Ivan’s hand, his ears hot. "I like you so much, hyung."

"Haha, is that true?"

It seems unfair; Till is, first and foremost, a fan, and second, an omega in heat. He doesn't know how much of his attraction is true, how much he'll come to regret his decisions, how much his mother will hate Ivan for this, but— Ivan is quite sober; at least, as sober as an alpha can be while knotting his mate. So he feels quite confident when he replies, "I like you too. Do you wanna bite me?"

Another weak clench. "I do!" Till answers too quickly.

He wants to be Till's first bite. Ivan's greedy, and he wants all his firsts. He leans back, stirring their connection, to pull his own turtleneck. His necklace remains hanging as he leans over now, exposing his neck where a tattoo peaks from behind his shoulder.

"Make it count. Then I'll be yours too."

Ivan’s knot shifts in him, and Till stifles a moan. He's full and sensitive; every breath he takes sounds like a whimper.

But Till's staring at his bare neck. His mouth opens and closes, like he wants to say something. Instead, Till is clumsy and awkward and too eager as he leans in and lets his lips touch the hot skin of Ivan’s neck, ignoring the way each movement shifts where they're connected.

Ivan's knot is in deep; he rocks gently against his omega, each time stirring his sensitive walls to weakly clench. He loves it; feels amazing. Ivan moans as his lips touch his main artery vein and groans loudly, approvingly, when his clumsy teeth clamp down. His skin breaks and blood spills, and Ivan's more turned on than ever. He grinds into Till's over-sensitive body and begins fucking him again, his knot softening enough to make the slide easier now, though his cum is spilling from the seams.

"Good— good, fuck," he growls, "Till. Mine."

Yes— his. This omega fan he just met one night. Unsha will be furious to hear of this, but right now that couldn't be further from Ivan's mind, from his priorities.

"Yours, ah—n, yours, hyung— please—"

He loses his mind at some point, too, deep in his alpha-rut haze. He doubts Till will have remembered how many times he was made to cum, and Ivan will have been completely empty, and Till knotted still, when they at last pass out from the manic haze of their combined dynamics.

It's Till that wakes up first, slipping free from Ivan's softened knot and cock like he'd forgotten he'd been plugged up all night. The stimulation — a strange wet feeling of his cock sliding out of Till — is surely made worse by the lewd squelch, and then the subsequence flow of cum leaking out of him. Till's whimper and beet-red first as the first thing Ivan sees and hears when he opens his eyes to Till's mortified expression.

"Ah…? You're up early."

"W-we— you, you're— shit! My back—" He looks down, like he's fully remembering what happened last night. Till's green eyes go impossibly narrow at the prominent swell of his navel, where Ivan's cum peacefully rests. "Oh my god. It's—it's not a dream!"

Ivan props his head up onto his palm, quirking a thick brow.

"So you do remember," he sighs mirthfully, a little mockingly. "I was afraid you'd forget. All those things you said, just typical omega heat bullshit."

"N-no! It's j-just, uh—" His hand rests on his navel again, and he looks like he's going to faint. It makes Ivan want to laugh; it's not even a guarantee Till will get pregnant. It was just dirty talk, after all— which means he can tease Till some more.

"What, you're already afraid of pregnancy? What about the promise of keeping our baby?"

Till looks like he's about to panic again, overstimulated in a totally different way now. "I'd— I'd never!"

Ivan scoots closer; his hand drapes around Till's waist and pulls him against Ivan's chest.

"I'm just kidding, cutie," he says, leaning in to kiss the corner of Till's lips. "Don't worry. You're not gonna get pregnant from this, but if you do— you have my number now, don't you?"

Till turns to that familiar impossible-red. "Y-yeah! I do!"

After all that, Till manages to clean up nicely after he was sent back to his hotel. Ivan arranged for an upgrade to his room so that he can get a nicer bath — one with the jacuzzi — and Till was able to take advantage of extra amenities, including free-use of the in-room bar. Till is surprised he was able to make it to his room his first place; he's soaking in the jacuzzi, his body sore and his neck aching; he can't stop feeling over his belly, where Ivan — yes, that Ivan — filled him to the point where his skin stretched; He saw it when he looked in the mirror.

Till's body is full of proof of Ivan's claim and his love. He keeps hissing and grunting and sinking himself deeper into the tub when he thinks about Ivan. He remembers. He almost wishes he didn't; it'd be less embarrassing, or less arousing — every waking moment Till's mind goes back to the low pant of Ivan's voice as he pounds into him, the sound of their bodies slapping against each other, feeling of his hole stretched beyond its limit. He remembers Ivan's damp hand over his, his warm chest, over Till's back.

Till misses him so much. He may have Ivan's number now, but he feels like he can't text him yet. He's too desperate — he's just a fan. Ivan will surely get bored of him—

But— but what if he really got pregnant? What if he wanted to keep a bit of Ivan inside himself still? What if this was the last time he'll ever see Ivan, his alpha, and yet he'd given up not only his virginity, but now the world will know that the person who bit him has abandoned him?

What if Till really is just— just used up already, all because he couldn't keep control of his heat?

Before he can plunge deeper into self-depreciation, half-wishing he would drown in the tub, his phone digs with a special tone.

He snatches his phone fast, knowing exactly who it's from.

Ivan did himself the favor of adding his own contact into Till's phone, even giving himself a unique ringtone. His heart can't stop racing as he unlocks his phone and reads the texts from the contact that is just a series of emojis that Unknown Sorrow fans associate with Ivan.

Hey, cutie.

Sorry I couldn't be around to help clean you up, especially since I made such a mess of you. ;)

Meet me again backstage for the second show. Don't worry if you don't have tickets.

BTW, found this recording on my phone from last night. It's a good POV. We can make more if you want.

ATTACHED: 24112025.MOV

Till doesn't have time to be happy, to be excited for the promise of another show that he can attend, that Ivan actually wants to see him again. But he clicks on the video before he has a moment to process all the other emotions, and nearly drops the phone into the tub when he's met with the sound of his own muffled moans, coupled by Ivan's thrusts meeting in wet slaps of skin.

He wants to scream, eyes wild and his face the kind of red and embarrassed that people would laugh at him for.

His phone dings again.

Next time, can we film the knotting?

Ivan gets a good chuckle out of imagining Till's face, even though he doesn't reply for a long while later.